Something I Can Never Have
by chasurozu
Summary: I had no intention of killing this man. He was as elegant and as beautiful as someone of my kind, and he had knowledge I had never seen in a human. AU, Vampire!FrUK.
1. Chapter 1

Something I Can Never Have

_By chasurozu_

**Francis's P.O.V.**

My mom always told me that humans were disgusting creatures. That they were selfish beings, and could never be trusted because of that selfishness. She told me that they were only good for one thing—their blood—my food source; otherwise they were nasty things, and I was never allowed to converse with one of them unless I intended to kill and feed off of them. It's was enthralling, and most definitely interesting the way my mother had to convince me (and sometimes herself it seemed) how humans were such simple and ugly creatures.

And yet, even after her years of pushing the way of the vampire onto me and lecturing me with "humans are hideous" speeches: here I am talking to one, like one human would talk to another, or another vampire would talk to another. And he's the one who approached me actually, with a handsome smile and beautifully aligned white teeth. But that's not the only thing that caught my attention about this man; his skin tone and the long expanse of his peach neck, and the way his eyebrows were thicker but it fit him, in a way, and made his emerald eyes stand out that much more. He looked soft; so soft and _so _tempting. I immediately set out to buy him a drink. I ordered him a glass of watered-down scotch, as well as one for myself, but I never touched it. I merely drummed my fingers against the glass as we conversed.

He told me of his life. He had lived in England, and moved to France for business reasons; while in France he had met a beautiful woman, and he had fallen in love. They set out to get married after two years of dating. A few months later he told me his wife had got impregnated; she immediately asked to get an abortion, saying that she didn't want a baby at such a young age. She told him that the baby would ruin their lives. The man, an Englishman by the name of Arthur, refused to have the abortion. He didn't want to waste a human life on nothing. He told me he loved humans; that they were an intriguing yet ignorant species who only cared about surviving, and that was why they had survived for so long and will continue to survive despite the differences in the world. That's why he didn't want to waste even one life, because every single person deserved a chance to live their lives—they deserved a chance to survive.

I was interested in this man. He was the first human I have ever held a conversation with without the thought of sinking my fangs into their neck the entire time. I was sad to hear that his wife did get the abortion and they had got a divorce shortly after. I don't know why but I felt sympathy for him. I ordered him another drink and continued listening to him as he chatted on about life and humans.

I don't know what I had been planning when I asked him to come home with me, and, in his drunken haze he agreed to come with me willingly. It was strange. I knew everything about his life and his views, yet he knew nothing of mine and he was still willing to leave with me. I guess alcohol really does have a huge affect on the human mind.

But there was another problem: I had no intention of killing this man. He was as elegant and as beautiful as someone of my kind, and he had knowledge I had never seen in a human. He fascinated me! I wanted to hear more about his views; I wanted to see the world through his eyes and cherish every bit of life the way he did.

On our way to my house (which wasn't exactly my house because I was bringing him to a small apartment my mom had rented out for me to bring my food to, much like nights like this one) I had to hold him up by his arm because he kept stumbling and calling out to random passerby's across the street from us. They would either wave to us and laugh at his obvious drunkenness or sneer and keep walking onward. When he got tired of that he turned toward me and leaned against my arm, his whole body slumping while he pressed his cheek against my shoulder. He mumbled a few things I couldn't make out. And I glanced down at him to find him staring up at me, his green irises sparkling with an emotion I hadn't seen in a human before. I had seen the same look in my father's eyes when he feed—it was something akin to hunger and lust, yet there was something else there also; something I could never quite pinpoint. And before I could react, he pushed himself upward and pressed his lips between the crook of my jaw and my neck. My breath hitched and the skin beneath his mouth tingled pleasantly from the soft contact. I felt him smile against my skin before he moved lower on my neck and planted another kiss there.

I wanted to push him away, to tell him that I didn't think of this as a good idea, and either kill him then and there or send him off to his home. But I couldn't bring myself to say the words. My lips quavered as I continued to look down into those bright eyes. And I watched with amusement as his pink tongue darted out from between his teeth every now and then to wet his lips.

"I want you," he whispered. He pressed his face into my neck and leaned his weight against me in a way that forced me to stop walking all together. I gripped his arms tightly, pulling him closer to me as he continued to lay opened-mouth kisses along the length of my neck.

"We are almost there," I told him breathlessly. I removed my hands from his arms to push against his shoulders lightly. I give him a reassuring smile when he looked up at me with furrowed eyebrows. His eyes were doubtful and his lips were pursued into somewhat of a pout.

That night was one huge blur to me. I lead him to my house and watched as he stumbled over to my bed and fell back against it, his arms wide open and his eyes staring at me, waiting for me to come to him. I had never laid with a human (or a vampire at that.) I was still young in my vampire years, looking no more than twenty at the time. But I knew what to do. It's a form of instinct, is it not?

I walked over and pressed a hand against his stomach, pushing him against the sheets as I crawled on top of him, my gaze never leaving his. He was silent, watching me with a steady gaze as I removed his clothing piece by piece and ran my cold hands over his abs and chest. I wrapped my arms around his thin chest in a tight embrace; my arms locked around his body and I pulled him close to me so that my face was buried in the crease of his neck. I drew in his scent and let out a shaky breath.

I wanted it; I wanted it so bad that my veins felt like they were burning. My head was reeling, and my heart pounding much faster than I thought possible for someone like myself. He was oblivious to this fact, obviously, as he ran his fingers through my wavy blond tresses and thrust his hips up to met mine every now and then. I could feel his ache press against my hip bone with every upward movement he made. I pressed my lips against the side of his neck, a mere flicker of my lips against his flesh; so soft yet so sensitive at the same time.

I did it again. And again.

And I smiled as he tilted his head back, baring his neck to me. And then I leaned forward and sunk my teeth into that temptingly soft flesh.

* * *

><p><em>This will be continued, folks! If you guys like it, that is, otherwise I might delete it.<em>

_After reading Anne Rice's "Interview With The Vampire" for the second time, I was inspired to write a vampire fiction. And, my goodness, Francis would make one sexy vampire, guys! No joke._

_More dialog in later chapters, lol. I think there were two lines of dialog in this first chapter, which TOTALLY sucks balls. Also, my apologies for my lack of knowledge on the British dialect. I only know some words like "bollocks", "twat", "wanker", and "sod off" and etcetera. Mostly insults, haha. But I will try to make Arthur sound more 'British' I guess; but I'm not making any promises! so don't be disappointed if his dialect is... uh, inaccurate?_

_P.S. If there are any mistakes feel free to tell me. My grammar sucks, and I don't re-read what I write 75% of the time. I won't take any offense to it; it'll make me happier actually! K THNX BAI._

_P.S.S. I would to hear from ya'll. Just sayin'._


	2. Chapter 2

It was morning. He could tell by the streams of light the spilled across the span of the bedroom; and across the white sheets lain over his body in a sloppy gesture. To many, the sight might be titled along the lines of "the beginning of a beautiful day." But not for Arthur Kirkland. Oh no, Arthur hated mornings with a passion. The light was further fueling the beginnings of a migraine: a result of the alcohol he had taken in other night, and probably the many nights before that. So, he turns onto his stomach quickly and shoves his head into the nearest pillow with an irritated groan.

But just as his head hits the pillow, he's up again, untangling the sheets from his legs to get a better look about the room. His hair is in disarray and he has to squint through that _god forsaken light_ that seems to be taunting him—

Not his room. This wasn't his room.

No, he wasn't going to freak out. He had woken up in situations like this before, right? He had went to the bar last night and picked up a girl—yeah—that was it, he picked up a girl and he had nothing to worry about. Running a hand through his messy hair, he finally peels the rest of the sheets from his body and moves to stand. A sharp pain shooting down his back makes Arthur sigh and plop back down on the bed. He reaches a hand around his side to rub at his lower back.

* * *

><p>There was only one way to make coffee, correct?<p>

I heard a woman saying once that there was no way you could ruin a cup of coffee. It was an older woman, and she said it with such generosity that I believed her then. Now, I wasn't so sure; because the coffee I had just brewed smelled like disgusting burnt hair.

I try to brush off the smell by adding milk and sugar to it. It seems to help a bit, but I'm not sure if it tastes the way it smells.

With one last irritated glance at the coffee set I had bought this morning, I grab hold of the mug I had just poured and head towards the bedroom.

Light is spilling through the room in all different directions, so I choose to stop at the doorway. My little friend from last night is awake now – his back is turned to me, however – and he's rubbing at his lower spin with the tips of his fingers.

All the skin I can see is beautiful, especially now that I can see it in the sunlight. The sun tends to make everything looks lovelier, in my opinion; and the way it's almost reflecting off his peach colored skin takes my breath away.

"You are finally awake." Green eyes lift and snap towards the doorway as I say this. I greet him with a calm smile. He doesn't return it; but I half expected him not to, so it does not bother me. His eyebrows crinkle and he makes this expression that makes him look like he's try to will his memories from last night to return. I think it's kind of… appealing? …cute?

"I made some coffee," I say, lifting my left hand to show him the steaming mug that I'm holding.

"Thanks," he says slowly, and sends a small nod my way, "just… let me get dressed first."

He looks me up and down openly from over his shoulder, and then merely shrugs. I think the gesture is a little disrespectful but I brush it off quickly.

"You're cloths are folded in the corner," I say. He glances at said corner and then back at me.

"Thanks," he says slowly.

"When you are done dressing, you can meet me in the kitchen." I flash another smile before turning and heading back into the kitchen, where I set his mug down on the table with a sigh. Being awake during the day was indeed a difficult tactic. Although the sun doesn't make us combust in flames, like many books and movies made you believe. It does tend to… burn every now and then. It's tiring, and wares us out easily, so we usually sleep during the day. But I could not leave that little human there in my bed and have him wake up to an empty house. Non, that would be disrespectful.

A few moments later Arthur exits the room with his clothes from last night tossed on; except they look tasseled, along with his hair.

"You're coffee is on the table," I point out, motioning to the mug with a wave of my arm.

"Ah, thanks," he mumbles.

"I take it you don't remember last night?" I ask with a light chuckle. I take in the way his eyebrows wrinkle in the middle ever so slightly and he shakes his head, a bit too quickly.

"No, no," he says. "Don't get me wrong… I remember talking to you, at the bar…"

"Oui, but you don't remember coming home with me."

"Exactly," he sighs as he finally reaches forward and picks up the mug. And, with all honesty, I'm kind of frightened on what he will think of the coffee. I had never made food before, because it's not necessary for my kind to eat. I don't realize I'm staring him down until I notice he's glaring at me out of the corners of his eyes.

"What?" he snaps. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Non," I say quickly, holding up my hands in surrender. "I was just looking at you."

"Well quit it," he growls and turns his back to me. "It's creepy."

"Merci," I reply calmly. And I smile again, despite the fact that his back turned and he can't see it. Humans have such trivial minds; getting mad over nothing - tsk.

After taking a large gulp of coffee, he sets the mug gently back onto the table. "This tastes awful."

There goes my pride.

"Merci," I repeat. "I don't make coffee too often, because I don't like it."

"You should try tea..." Arthur murmurs. And I can't help but thought that him liking tea is a little too stereotypical.

"What kind of tea?" I ask. Not for myself of course. I already made it clear that I don't eat or drink human comsumptions. But, if Arthur would _happen_ to end up in my house again, I would like to know what sort of things to make him in the morning.

For the first time that morning, he turns to me with a smile – quite similar to the one I seen him wearing at the bar when I had first seen him. He looks so beautiful when he smiles; I wish I could see it more often. "I prefer black tea's," he says, "but Japanese sencha is also very enjoyable."

"I see," I say, attempting to make myself sound curious. "I'll make sure to try those."

"I should get going," Arthur says after a moment of silence. "Thank you for the coffee… and everything."

I don't want him to leave yet. There is a lot more I would like to ask of him - there is a lot more I would like to learn. But if the man wants to leave, I can't keep him from doing so.

So I follow him to the door and hand him his coat once he has his shoes on. He shrugs on the garment and sends me another stunning smile.

"I want to see you again," I hear myself saying before I can even comprehend myself. He seems to start at this; his green eyes widen and his lips part into a sort of bristled gap. I think I see a light pinkish tint lift in his cheeks too. "You were great last night," I go on, purring. "We should go out together again sometime."

"W-What?" he gasps. "I don't even know your name."

"I told you it last night; you should be kind enough to remember it, _Arthur_." I object with a slight pout.

"I can't help it," he snorts in reply, "I drank too much."

"Then maybe you shouldn't drink so much, oui?"

"I'll drink as much as I like!"

"But drinking your memories away isn't healthy," I counterpart. He does not reply. Instead, he turns and barrages right out of the apartments door and down the hallway. "Wait!" I call, stepping out after him. "I still want to see you again!"

"Sod off!" he shouts over his shoulder.

He sure is different, that little human. I can't help but smile to myself when I hear the slam of the apartment's front doors.

Don't worry, Arthur Kirkland, we'll be meeting again soon.

After you get a taste of something, you always crave afterwards. And you won't stop until that craving is fulfilled.

My little human – my little master – I want to get to know you better: that is what I crave.

* * *

><p>He slept with a man last night – that's all right, that's okay, there's no big deal behind sleeping with another man. It's not like he had never slept with another man before or anything like that. He had once; <em>once<em>. It was a terrible experience. But now that memories from last night were flowing back into his head, he realized that his and… that man's… experience was anything but terrible.

From first glance you could tell that that man was gorgeous. Wavy blond hair and a stubble beard that poked at Arthur's own chin when they kissed but it fit him – he made it look _sexy_. And those deep blue eyes were amazing – tauntingly so. They had a look of hunger in them.

Arthur shoves his hands into his pockets and groans. He shouldn't be thinking about this stuff.

He left. They would never meet again. It was over.

The Englishman, however, for some unknown reason way beyond him, felt a wave of warmth whenever he thought about the Frenchman.

Saying things like, _You were great last night_ and _I want to see you again_. That bastard; he must have been teasing him!

When a bus pulls up to the curb Arthur is standing on, we allows an elderly women to board before him kindly, and then follows after. His head was pounding and his cheeks felt way too hot. He didn't want to go home though, because he knew no one was going to be there. No lover, no family – no one.

He takes a set in the back of the bus and slumps against the plastic seat with a huff.

But going home a drinking himself to sleep didn't sound like a very bad idea.

It's not like anyone would care.

* * *

><p><em>I apologize that this took so long to update. I've be working on Disintegrate (my main story) so I haven't been able to get any time to write this. <em>

_But, here ya go! It's short but please enjoy._

_Reviews will keep this story going, guys. I feel encouraged when I get reviews because I know that I am doing a good job. Help me out?_

_P.S. Tell me if you like the fact that I'm switching between France's 1st POV and England's 3rd POV. If you would like me to stick strictly to France, just let me know. But if you like having Arthur's thoughts in the mix, I can do that too._


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